


Lights of New York

by panzie



Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Peter Parker, F/M, How Do I Tag, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panzie/pseuds/panzie
Summary: Peter Parker has moved into the city after graduation with his best friend, Harry Osborn. He thought he was close to figuring everything out, but...nope. I hope I can update this summary later





	Lights of New York

“Hey, I got us a drink to celebrate!” Harry smiled, rushing to the kitchen of their new apartment.

“A drink? We’re not 21.” Hell, it’d only been a month or so since they graduated. Peter followed him to the kitchen, it was so much bigger and sleeker than he was used to. With tiles of grey slate, a drinks cooler under the island counters and a wall length window looking out across the lights of New York.

Harry popped up form under the counter with a bottle of white wine. “So what if we’re not 21?” He asked.

“Well, it’s you know…” Peters voice wavered a little, “Illegal.”

“You haven’t drunk before?”

Peter laughed, “You think I drank with my aunt and uncle?” He felt himself blush a little, “It’s not like I got invited to parties.”

“Well it’s no big deal.” Harry poured two glasses, “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want.”

“No, I want to.” Peter said, taking his glass. He was a little nervous but when Harry smiled at him he felt reassured. If he were to embarrass himself it may as well be the two of them. He took a sip and instantly winced, screwing his face up like a toddler.

Harry laughed, but not cruelly. “Your face! This really is your first glass.”

“Yeah it’s disgusting.”

Harry took a swig from his glass, “You’ll get used to it.” He paused for a second and smirked, “You baby.”

“Shut up.” Peter said, though he wasn’t really offended. He took another sip, enduring the bitter the taste.

They sat by the window in the living room, drinking, looking out across the city. It was raining, the lights glittered.

“You know Harry, I feel. I really feel like I can be happy. For the first time in a while.” Peter had drunk only half of a glass, but already felt the alcohol blurring him, the words coming to his mind and mouth too quick and too slow.

Harry smiled, “I do too.” He gazed far off into the glass for a second, before snapping back to reality. “Not that - I mean... I know you you’ve been through a lot," He rested a hand on Peter's shoulder, "I’m not trying to say it’s the same.”

After Uncle Ben was murdered Peter was broken. But when others offered their comfort he turned away. How could he accept condolences for his Uncles death? It was all his fault. The day after it happened Harry had bought flowers for Aunt May. When Peter refused to leave his room, Harry sat outside the door. Peter had wanted so much to open it, to hug his friend and to be held, but he couldn’t.

That was months ago. It still hurt to think about, but it didn’t break him anymore.

He had Spider-Man now.

“It’s okay.” Peter shook Harry's hand away; he didn’t need comfort anymore. He just wanted people to act normal again, “_I’m _okay.” He paused a moment. “What’s been wrong with you?”

Harry shook his head and drank the last of his wine.

“Tell me, Harry.”

“I don’t want to. I want..” Harry’s eyes glazed over, a blank expression.

“I’m sorry I just, I just had no idea you weren’t happy.” Peter tried to sound casual. He never knew how to handle moments like these, it was so difficult to know what someone might be thinking. What they would want from him.

“It’s my father. I don’t want to complain about it to you.”

Peter put his glass down, “Well you don’t have to. But, whatever, I’ll listen.”

He looked over at his friend. Harry’s face was tired and somehow more slurred than his speech. He slouched back on the couch, weighing up what to say in the silence. His thoughts slow.

“I just…” He bit his lip. “I wish he loved me.” He forced the words out dryly. Suppressing any emotion from his voice.

“I’m sure he does.” Peter put his arm around Harry’s shoulder. But Harry pulled away, shaking his head.

“No, no, no." He learnt forward and ran his hands through his hair, ruffling the thick brown curls with a clumsy, neurotic energy. "You don't understand."

“I’m sorry.” Peter said, a little uneasy. He hadn’t expected this to happen, and now he felt an uncomfortable closeness. Harry always put up such a cool exterior, seeing him like this was so strange. “I just mean, why wouldn’t he love you?”

“He tells me he doesn’t.” Harry lifted his legs up onto the sofa and hugged them close to his chest. Peter really hadn't ever seen him like this. 

He scooted closer to Harry and tried putting his arm around him again. Harry tensed up for a moment, before relaxing into Peter’s arms, resting his head on his shoulder.

The lights outside the window blurred and swayed.

“Well, other people will love you.” Peter said, “Better people.”

Harry broke into sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Peter said softly, stroking his hair.

“When?” He cried, “When will someone love me?”

“You’re my best friend, Harry.” Peter looked out at the swirly lights, his hand running through Harry's hair, “_I_ love you.”

Harry shook his head.

“I do.”

Harry broke away from the hug, his face was red and wet with tears, reflecting the lights in a pink glow. His tired dark eyes glossy above the drunk dullness, his hair a tumbling mess. Peter ought to think he looked like a mess, which he did, but to Peter he just looked beautiful. “You do?” Harry asked.

Peter's breath became heavy. He felt something stronger than he'd ever known before. 

He smiled, “Yeah.” And that night he felt so much closer to Harry than he'd felt to anyone. 

* * *

Peter pulled himself out of bed in a groggy haze, his ears ringing either side of a piercing migraine. In the bathroom he splashed cold water on his face, it did nothing to wake him up. He frowned at his reflection, a wreck.

In the sink he noticed some hairs. Harry must’ve shaved his beard. At least, Peter hoped it was his beard. He remembered how close they’d felt last night and wondered if they’d feel so close again. Looking at the hairs in the sink he thought that they would. He also thought Harry ought to learn to clean up after himself. He washed them away. _What an idiot_, he thought. Then a second later_, I can’t wait to see him_.

After dressing and combing his hair, he still couldn’t get that hangover look of his face, but he was at least presentable. He went out into the living room, but Harry wasn’t there.

Instead he saw Norman Osborn, dressed far too formal for a family visit, finishing some conversation on his cell phone.

“Peter Parker.” He said, turning to shake peters hand.

“Mr. Osborn,” Peter replied, the handshake was strong, controlled. He noticed Norman look at him with some suspicion.

“I hope my son isn’t being a bad influence on you Peter.”

“A bad influence?” Peters said confused, then he remembered his hangover face and the empty wine glasses left on the coffee table. “No, he’s not.” He lied.

“Well, do you know where he is?”

“He’s not here?” Peter glanced around the apartment; wouldn’t Harry leave a note? Peter had been looking forward to them eating breakfast together. He frowned. “He hasn't got a class this morning. Is he at OsCorp?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Peter said. “Well, I guess he’ll be back later. Would you like me to pass on a message? Or we could ring his cell if it’s urgent?”

“No just tell him I was here. Though he did leave me a… concerning voicemail last night.” He glanced at Peter, that suspicious look again, “He hasn’t said anything that has made you uncomfortable, has he?”

“No, Mr. Osborn.” Peter said, confused. Concerning? Maybe Harry just babbled drunken nonsense…Peter hoped that’s all it was. “Why?”

“No reason.” Normans face softened, “I just wondered how you boys were getting along.” He smiled wide; his teeth were a sharp white.

“Well…normally I guess?” Peter nodded, feeling awkward now. “We’re good friends.”

“Well good. I best be off, important work to catch up on.” And Norman strode out of the apartment, leaving Peter there alone.

By the time Harry got back Peter wasn’t there anymore. He was out in the city. Two gunmen had taken a bank hostage. Spider-Man swung in to save the day. After chasing the getaway car down the highway Peter was shattered. He slipped off the scene and swung back home. He expected to talk to Harry when he got back, but Harry had already gone to bed. Peter didn’t really care. He wanted to go to sleep as well.

Things went on like that for a while, the two living together yet barely seeing each other. Especially when Peter got his first job, and then was fired from it, and then got another, and was fired again. Between college, Spider-Man and trying to actually make some money, Peter found himself constantly busy. As for Harry…well he had no idea where Harry went off to. Sometimes he’d just disappear and didn’t have a good answer for where he’d been. Often it seemed like he was avoiding Peter, and when the two were together Peter felt a distance that was sudden and unnatural.

* * *

A couple weeks later Peter found an ad in the paper asking for photos of Spider-Man. He had found photography difficult to break into, but here he certainly had an advantage, and so he packed his portfolio full and headed off to the Daily Bugle offices. On his way he noticed red hair shining in the sunlight, a woman unmistakable.

Mary-Jane.

He called her name. She turned and smiled so warmly he felt a comfort in his heart. On the street, there among the crowds of commuters and the noisy traffic, they caught up, he told her how he was job hunting and asked what she was up to. She smiled a little awkwardly and looked at the pavement, before she told him how she was a singing waitress. She seemed ashamed of it, but Peter couldn’t see why. It wasn’t so long since they graduated, and he didn't even have a job. 

“Just, you know, please don’t tell Harry?” She asked, blushing a little. 

“Harry?” Peter didn’t understand what this had to do with him.

“You’re living together right? Or didn’t he tell you? We’re dating.”

“Oh.” Peter said, his heart sinking.

“He might think waiting tables is low.”

“Waiting tables is not low!” Peter said, angry that Harry would make her feel that way, “You’re working! Harry doesn’t live in the real world.” He felt so betrayed, Harry knew his feelings for MJ. But it wasn’t just that. It was the disappearing, the distance, that hurt – Harry had all but forgotten his friendship with Peter recently, and for what? To keep MJ from him? Harry was a ghost in his own home because he wasn’t even brave enough to just tell the truth. 

MJ gave Peter a small smile, “You know, we should catch up? Get a coffee or something?”

Peter quickly calmed down. “Really?” He asked, delighted.

“Don’t tell Harry.” She tapped her nose and began to walk away.

“We won’t tell Harry.” Peter tapped his nose back, with a stupid, delirious smile.


End file.
